Noise
by seriouscaseofthegayface
Summary: Sweets contemplates what he misses most about Daisy Wick.


**A/N: Why yes, this is exactly what I do in a study class in school... just decided to get all my Swaisy depression out of the way to make way for what will be a season of Swaisy love! *eye twitch* Hope you like it!**

**Sweets POV**

You never really know what you're going to miss about a person until they're gone.

As a kid, I thought it would be the big things - a person's sense of humour, their compassion, the things that made them unique - but as I've gone through life I've realised it's those tiny, trivial quirks that you miss most.

When I think of my parents, I don't so much think about what wonderful, caring people they were as much as I long for my mom's smile, my dad's homemade cheese soufflé, how Mom would ring the doorbell three times to let me know it was her, the way Dad would clap me on the shoulder before he left for work. The little things.

As if losing my parents only a few years ago wasn't enough, now I've lost my new family, this family I've been building for the past three years, too. And with that comes more things I miss.

I miss Dr Brennan's laugh, the look of a approval she gave me every once in a blue moon. Hell, I even miss her arguing that psychology is not a legitimate science. I miss Agent Booth's gruffness, the way he used to stare at Dr Brennan when he believed I wasn't looking, his rebellious ties and socks. I miss Hodgins's rants about the state of our Government, Angela's way-too-inappropriate-for-work sex stories. All those inconsequential flaws, habits that they have feel like they've been snatched away from me.

And then - of course - there's Daisy.

Daisy. The woman I love (there's no point in pretending, I might as well own up to the fact that I'll never be truly over her). Many people would assume I miss the regular, relationship things about Daisy - her terrible jokes, her eyes, the cute texts she sends when she's supposed to be writing her dissertation, her flowery perfume, her kisses, her awful attempts at cooking, the way her skin feels against mine, her excitement over everyday occurrences, her passion for her work, the utter rightness I feel (well, _used_ to feel) whenever we're together - all of that stuff.

And yet, there's only one thing I miss about Daisy - the noise.

To say that Daisy favours the loud is an understatement. Having dated her for just over a year, I don't believe I've ever had a moment of silence with her. Even when Daisy isn't talking, she's making some form of noise - mumbling nonsense words in her sleep, humming while she's brushing her teeth, arguing with the TV, reading back parts of her dissertation, belting out the words to 'When You Say Nothing At All' in the shower, clapping excitedly, whistling along to the radio, tapping her fingers impatiently as she waits for the kettle to boil, ransacking the entire house in search of her keys, blasting music at 11.30 pm - you name it. With her around, life was always loud and boisterous.

So, when she went to Maluku I took it as a good thing - finally, some peace and quiet. Some time to actually _hear_ my own thoughts. It would be good, therapeutic for me. But I was wrong.

I miss it. I miss the noise, I miss having neighbours complain every other day, I miss _Daisy_. We'd been together so long that her love of all things at a deafening volume had rubbed off on me.

So here I sit, Saturday evening, 9 pm. All is quiet, except for the sound of the clock ticking and a distant car alarm outside. I hate it.

I've already considered ringing Daisy twice, just to hear her squeal, the sound of her voice. But that's not fair, is it, Lance? You told her to move on, you can't just drag her back into your life because you miss her, because you feel like it. This is all _your_ fault.

I grab the blanket draped over the back of the couch and huddle underneath it - when did it suddenly get so cold? - then pick up the remote to turn on the TV.

It's Daisy's favourite show, the one with the crime-fighting anthropologist who everyone wants to get with the hot FBI agent. I never got why she liked stuff like this, I always found these shows far too close to reality to be entertaining.

I press the 'volume plus' button on my remote repeatedly, making the TV louder and louder until it feels like the apartment is actually shaking. The neighbours will undoubtedly complain, but I don't care. I put the volume up as high as it will go, screwing my eyes shut and curling up under the blanket. Trying to shut out the world. Trying to pretend nothing happened, that Daisy never went to Maluku, that life is the same as it always was.

Trying to escape the inevitable silence.

**A/N: And there you have it! Loved it? Despised it? Please let me know, reviews make my Swaisy heart feel whole! :D**

**Peace,**

**Ellie (:**


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